The Utter Drama!
by Henrietta-thepseudonym
Summary: Plot twists, cliff hangers, love triangles, secrets and lies leading to confessions! Formally known as Wizard Avenue. Rewritten! Snape's slightly less OoC! Will wonders never cease? R&R! Lots of lovely shipping! AU!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything - instead I borrow it, chop it all up and marinade it in a cheesy sauce. Bake for 35 minutes, at gas mark 6, then leave to cool. Serving suggestion: With a pinch of salt.**

**A/N: I have changed the very premise of this fic - it's my prerogative as the author. It is no longer written in a script-format. It's not even everyone-conveniently-lives-in-the-same-street/square/village-soap anymore. I like to think it is still a tribute, however, to melodrama, in a comical and maybe even tongue-in-cheek way. Well, that's what I'd like to think anyway; feel free to try and dissuade me of this notion, in the form of a _REVIEW_, if the whim takes you. Also I changed the title - the other one was well crap (let us never mention it again!).**

**The Utter Drama!**

**Chapter One**

**Monday, 8.39am**

Our intrepid tale begins in the house of one S. Black. Mr S. Black. The "S" not only stands for "Sex(-on-legs)", but for "Sirius" as well. Sex(-on-legs), or Sirius, as those _not_ madly in lust with him (a rare breed) referred to him, was sat in his large kitchen across from his first cousin, once removed, Nymphadora Tonks. Or just Tonks, as she preferred. They were eating breakfast; crumpets, seeing as you asked.

"Would you like jam on that?" Sirius, ever the gracious host proffered, holding up a jar of the strawberry preserve.

"Yum! Yes, please," she reached across the table, only managing to get a smidgeon of margarine on the sleeve of her fuchsia and lime robes. That was quite good for her.

There was a curt knock on the front door, which neither of the two breakfasters heard. The knowledge that there was a visitor to twelve, Grimmauld Place was only brought about by the loud shrieks emitting from the front hall, that made up Mrs Black's repartee. You would, however, not have described it as witty.

"BLOOD-TRAITORS INFESTING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS! BESMIRCHING THE HONOUR OF THE NOBEL AND MOST-ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACK! FOR SHAME!"

Sirius sighed, and sworn.

"Not again!" he roughly pushed back his chair, so that it toppled and fell with a clatter. "Damn! It better be someone good after all this."

**OOO**

Somewhere in a chintzy, one-bedroomed bungalow, with a delightful conservatory and mock thatched roof, lived Ms Dolores Umbridge. She was sat in her front room staring dreamily into space. She was muttering to herself.

"Oh, Cornelius...how I love you so...why, oh, why must you have a wife already?...you know it's me you really want...oh, Cornelius..."

Her mental state had never fully returned to stable after her unfortunate incident with a herd of Centaur. Which teaches us a very important moral lesson - racism is _bad_. Especially when directed at Centaurs.

**OOO**

Meanwhile, in the official Minister of Magic residency, the current - but not for long, due to much criticism from pretty much the entire Wizarding Community, who he _allegedly _mis-led vis-a-vis Lord Voldemort's return. _Can_ you believe it? A member of Government deliberately mis-leading people! Those crazy witches and wizards, that's all I can say. - Minister was brushing he teeth. Another important lesson - it's good to have healthy teeth and gums.

He was very worried. He knew his fate was inevitable. He was gonna get fired.

"Oh, I'm gunna get fireb. Oh, I'm gunna get fireb. Oh, I'm gunna get fireb. Oh, I'm gunna get fireb. Damb, You-Know-Hoo! Why'd he hab to comb back? Everythinb was going finb untilb then. Damb, You-Know-Hoo!

Betty Fudge, his wife, was a harsh woman. She particularly liked not to have surfaces, such as the bathroom mirror, flecked with toothpaste froth. As I said, she was a harsh woman.

"CORNELIUS! What'va told yu 'b_ar_t talkin' ter yesen? 'specially when ye _brr_ushin' ye teeth; ye sprayin' toothp_a_ste _ev_'ry-which-way! Eee! Yerra messy bugger!"

Fudge was chasten. "So sorry, dear."

"Ye betta be!"

**OOO**

**8:40am**

Back at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Sirius was answering the front door. He'd managed to shut his mother's portrait up, with only sustaining a few scratches. Who knew oil paint was so sharp? His bad mood at having to listening to his mother's mantra, did not improve when he swung the door open.

"Oh. It's you," disgust contorted his handsome - _handsome_ - features. "_Snivellus_. What do _you_ want?"

Yes, rude, but understandable. Imagine _your_ reaction to one of your most loathed people turning up on your doorstep. And you can't thump them! That's cheating.

"Believe me, I'd much rather not be here." Snape said evenly. "I'm here to deliver some documents for the Order." he paused. "I really don't think that it's appropriate to do it on the front door step, like a couple of gossiping neighbours, do you?"

In a mock-pleasant tone Sirius invited him in.

"Do come through to the kitchen, _Snivellus_, we're having crumpets. Your favourite I believe?" and facetiously, he bowed Snape over his threshold.

Snape glared at him, but nevertheless he entered the kitchen. Sirius followed him.

**OOO**

In Bill and Fleur's love-nest the atmosphere was a lot more friendly. _A lot_ more friendly. But we must keep these things age-appropriate - what age exactly? I'm sure, but it will be appropriate.

They were both sat up in bed reading, well, Bill was doing a crossword. Suddenly he flung it aside - he couldn't be bothered any longer with five down, four letters, _A werewolf's ---- is worse than its bark_. Honestly _how_ many times had they used that one before? - and turned to the part Veela.

"Hi, Gorgeous!"

" 'Ello, 'Ot Stuff!" she put down her copy of _Le Magazine De Sorcière_.

"D'you want a kiss?"

"Oui!" and without another moment's hesitation they fell into an embrace. The utter romance!

**OOO**

**8:41am**

Back at Sirius's place...Tonks had finished eating her breakfast and was now trying to find her wand. She was _sure_ she'd put in down here somewhere! Because of this distraction she didn't notice that Sirius and Snape were busy glaring at each other and genuinely being uber-testosteroney.

"So, where are these documents, _Snivellus_?"

"You're eager, aren't you?" Snape smirked. "Patience, Black. All in good time." he took the documents out of the inside pocket of his robes. "Here they are. I trust you'll make sure they reach Dumbledore safely?"

"Of course! Are you trying to infer I'm incompetent?" Sirius said hotly.

"You're the one doing all the inferring, Black," Snape gave an extra big smirk at Sirius's mistake. It was at that moment that he eyes met the wondrous sight of Tonks emerging from under the table, where she'd been searching for her mis-laid wand. Her hair today was long, lustrous and utterly lovely. It was a fetching shade of lilac - with violet highlights - and it curled under at the bottom; which coincidentally was where it finished - down by her bottom. Her almond eyes sparkled with warmth, despite her frustration at not being able to find her wand. And her skin was the epitome of peaches and cream. His eyes slid down to her ample bos - **SNAPE! God, she's not a piece of meat!...just because she's got the whole Mary-Sue thing going on at the moment, doesn't mean she's any less of a person...well, a _fictional_ person...why are you apologising to me? It wasn't me you were ogling...LIKE YOU MEAN IT! Give me strength!...good boy...honestly! The things you have to deal with when you're writing fanfiction...now on with that yarn I was spinning... **- all in all, Snape found her to be very attractive. In fact he'd only ever felt like this about one person before...and that had definitely been love, he was certain of it...

She looked up and saw Snape watching her, but this didn't turn her stomach like it would have done to most people. She'd always felt slightly sorry for him, even when he'd taught her Potions at school and he'd given the class five-foot long essays on some of the more difficult subjects, which had been very close to impossible to complete. She realised he was probably a very tormented soul, and had probably been spurned the one time he dared to love, making him bitter for the rest of eternity. That was the cliche, wasn't it? Tonks had always had a fondness of cliches. She decided to be nice to him in what she knew would be a futile attempt to mellow his heart of stone.

"Fancy a crumpet, Snape?"

"NO! He bloody well doesn't! He can go now!" Sirius thumped the table. Well, he had a lot of pent-up testosterone pumping threw his veins right then.

She'd spoken to him! Snape couldn't think of a sarcastic, cutting or even scathing word to say in reply; let alone something flirtatious, funny or (dare he even think of such a word?) _nice_ to try and seduce her with. Seduce! _Him_? What was he _thinking_? His head was positively swimming with thoughts and feelings - _emotions_! He muston no account let them show. He had a reputation to think of.

Suddenly remembering where he was, and realising both Tonks and Sirius were starring at him in mild bewilderment, he attempted to say _something_ to fill the silence that had fallen, with.

"Nfhkjdhufhdjhbkjf!" Ahhhhhhhhh! He was a gibbering wreck! What had happened to his cool, calm and collected manner?

"Are you all right, Snape?" Tonks was very concerned.

Sirius, on the other hand, was not.

"What are you bloody waiting for? A fan-fare to accompany you to the door?" Sirius was starting to consider the fun he could have throwing Snape manually out of it, though. "Get out, or I'll throw you out!"

Snape regained the feeling in his legs and turned to leave, mortified by his own behaviour. Unfortunately for him, a very tiny part of his brain, which he usually ignored, had somehow developed the courage to gain control. Before he could stop himself, the words, "G-goodbye. Nymphadora. I hope to see you again sometime soon," had tumbled from his mouth. He felt colour rise in cheeks - he must be a pale shade of _pink_! The _shame_! He urged his legs to move. Faster. Towards the door.

When he'd finally managed to leave, Sirius turned to Tonks and said bluntly, "He fancies you."

"_Excuse_ me?"

"Back in the day he _always_ used to act that way around Lily Evans," he reminisced. "And he _definitely_ fancied her."

Tonks said nothing, but raised her lilac eyebrows in shock.

**OOO**

**8:59am**

Over at The Burrow, Arthur and Molly were having a conversation over their boiled eggs and soldiers.

"So?" Molly enquired excitedly.

"_So_ what, Dear?" Arthur asked, not knowing what she wanted to know.

"Well, when is it?"

"When's _what_ exactly?" still not a clue.

"_You know_..." she sighed good-naturedly.

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do! _Remember_?" she tried to prompt his memory.

"Remember _what_?"

"Remember the _thing_, for Goodness Sake!" she was starting to get impatient with him now.

"What _thing_?" there wasn't a _thing_, surely? Of course not. He'd remember if there was a _thing_.

"_You know_...I'm sure I told you."

"Told me _what_?"

"About the _thing_?" she was absolutely _sure_ she'd told him. He was just being a man.

"What _thing_?"

"The_ thing _we're going to."

"We're going to a _thing_!"

"_Yes_. Remember?"

"No, I don't remember, actually!"

"Oh, come on you _must_ do!"

"Well, I _don't_."

Molly had had enough. She stood up and stormed out, but not before she shrieked "_MEN_!" in exasperated.

Arthur remained sitting, staring as the yolk from one of his eggs dripped silently down the egg cup. He was confused.

This common, domestic scenario teaches all of us a very important lesson - how to avoid confusion. _Communication_ is the key. I provide a service, I really do.

**OOO**

**9:11am**

It was the first lesson of the week at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but Snape's Potions class hadn't learnt anything in the last eleven minutes. This was simply because - as unprecedented as it was - Snape had yet to turn up. The class was rife with intrigue over his absence.

"I wonder where he is?" asked Harry, chomping on his Drooble's Best Blowing Gum - he was surrounded by an aura of blue bubbles - although he wasn't eager to find out if it meant Snape would actually turn up.

"Maybe he's dead!" Ron suggested rather too hopefully to make him a nice person. He was lying leisurely on the desk at the time trying to look at Hermione adoringly, without her -or anyone else- noticing. She was taking Snape's absence as an opportunity to - Surprise! Surprise! - read a book. She did, however, tut loudly at Ron's hopefulness that their Professor was dead.

Harry was even more hopeful of this possibility. "He probably is! I mean - _when_ was the last time he was late? Never. That's when."

"I think we'd have been told if he were dead," Hermione said without even looking up from her book.

"What if no one knows he's dead?" Ron pointed out.

"Yeah, what if -" but Harry's imagination was not allowed to run riot, as at that moment the door to the dungeon was thrown open, and in walked Snape. He was in an even worse mood than usual.

The class quickly - not wanting to feel his wrath - ordered themselves into a state that he wouldn't approve of (his standards were too damn high!), but would hopefully accept. For the trio this meant Ron hurling himself off the desk and into a chair, Hermione shoving away her book, folding her arms in front of her and directing her attention towards the front; Harry, unfortunately had a problem, even after he'd hastily swallowed his Droobles. The bubbles! They'd refuse to pop for days, and there was practically a cloud of them above his head! How could he have been so _stupid_? He was gonna _die_!

Snape was now at the front of the class. He sat down silently at his desk. He stared straight ahead to the wall at the back of the dungeon. Unbeknownst to his students he was contemplating what had happened at Grimmauld Place earlier. He suppressed a shudder.

For at least five solid minutes, the entire class, and Snape himself, sat silently and unmoving - except for Harry's bright, blue bubbles, which were now, to his horror, diffusing around the dungeon.

Finally Hermione could take it no longer; she raised a shaking arm to the low ceiling, fully expecting the worst. She was a brave girl.

"Sir?" tentatively, barely more that a whisper. When there was no reaction from the Potions Master, she tried again. "_Sir_?"

The only movement Snape made was with his eyes, as they now came to rest on the quaking girl.

"Yes?" was all he said.

"Um...would you like us to do any work, Sir?" she held her breath waiting for the fallout.

"What?" he engaged his brain. "Oh, I don't care," and he didn't! "Do whatever you like. Play a game," he suggested, wanting to get back to his to his contemplating.

In a fit of disbelief, Hermione forgot to be terrified.

"A _game_, Sir!"

Snape did not like being questioned. Even when, in a normal mood, he would quite happily have Avada-ed himself for suggesting something as _fun_ as a game.

"Yes, a _game_. An amusement or pastime. I'm sure you've heard of one, what with being an insufferable know-it-all, and everything. (at this Hermione blushed as crimson as she did the first time he'd called her that). How about I give you an example? Charades! Play charades, go on! Now!" wanting to continue contemplating with a semblance of privacy, he wrenched open one of his desk drawers, in a bid to find something to hide behind. He grabbed a magazine he'd confiscated last week, and almost ripped it in his haste to open in. He realised too late, from the class's stifled giggles, and the article on menstrual cramps that was now only three inches away from his nose, that it picked up a Witch's magazine.

It was the final straw. He made a sound like a wounded animal, and stormed out of the dungeon. His black robes did indeed billow, now that you mention it

**Next time on Wizard Avenue: Snape tries to seduce Tonks! Umbridge tries to seduce Fudge! And there's a punch-up in the Pub! **

**AN2: Apologies for _Le Magazine De Sorcière _if it actually means something stupid in French. French is not my forte.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** **I don't own anything - instead I borrow it, chop it all up and marinade it in a cheesy sauce. Bake for 35 minutes, at gas mark 6, then leave to cool. Serving suggestion: With a pinch of salt.**

**A/N:** **I have changed the very premise of this fic - it's my prerogative as the author. It is no longer written in a script-format. It's not even everyone-conveniently-lives-in-the-same-street/square/village-soap anymore. I like to think it is still a tribute, however, to melodrama, in a comical and maybe even tongue-in-cheek way. Well, that's what I'd like to think anyway; feel free to try and dissuade me of this notion, in the form of a _REVIEW_, if the whim takes you. Also I changed the title - the other one was well crap (let us never mention it again!).**

**The Utter Drama!**

**Chapter Two**

**Monday, 9:31am**

Snape's Monday morning Potions class were still in shock.

"I _can't_ believe I wasn't hung, drawn and quartered," Harry said in awe. "I mean - unpopable, _blue_ bubbles. And I got away with it? With Snape? This is the stuff legends are made of."

"You don't need to brag about it," sniffed Hermione. She was sore that it had been her who had suffered Snape's wraith.

"Forgot about it, Hermione," Ron soothed. "Everyone knows Snape's a git."

"I know," she agreed dejectedly. "But I still don't appreciate being called an "Insufferable Know-It-All. Again."

"Why ever not, Granger? It's the truth!" it was Draco Malfoy.

"Who rattled your cage?" Ron balled his fists. He'd love to lay one on him.

"Easy now, Weasley," smirked Malfoy, noticing Ron's fists. He knew he was untouchable when he had the likes of Crabbe and Goyle to do his bidding. "Think of your blood pressure."

"It's nice of you to be so concerned," said Ron sarcastically, his teeth clenched.

"Go away, Malfoy," Hermione said simply.

"Why should I take orders from a Mudblood like you?"

"Because you don't wanna get cursed to the other side of next week, that's why," Harry shoved his wand in Malfoy's face.

It was at that moment, that McGonagall showed up dispelling the chance of any imminent violence.

"What exactly is going on here?" her lips were as thin as anerexic It-Girl. "Potter, put down your wand this instant!" she looked as if she were about to spontaneously combust with rage. "It's a good thing I came down here to check that weren't all running riot, whilst Professor Snape has been taken ill. Potter! Malfoy! Outside, _now_!"

With a heavy heart and even heavier legs, Harry dragged himself to his feet and toward the door. So much for avoiding trouble. He inwardly grinned. When did he _ever_ avoid trouble?

**9:35am**

Dolores Umbridge was standing outside the official Minister of Magic residency. She was racked with nerves, but she had to do it. She could contain her feelings no longer. She knocked on the door.

Thirty seconds later, it was answered by Betty Fudge, the Minister's wife.

"Dolores, t'what d'we owe the pleasure?" Betty asked, feigning politeness. She didn't like Dolores Umbridge - she had her suspicions about her.

Umbridge didn't like Betty either. She was, after all, the ungrateful cow who was married to Cornelius Fudge.

"I would like to speak to Conelius. In private," she added, not wanting Betty to ruin this for her.

"Do come through," Betty smiled brightly to hide that fact that she didn't want that Umbridge women in her house. She led her through to the lounge, as opposed to the drawing room where she'd usually install her guests - she didn't want her sitting on the good settee - and went to find her husband.

Umbridge looked around the lounge and noticed a photograph of Fugde and his wife on the mantel piece. She checked that neither Betty or Cornelius were about to walk in, got up and hurried over to the fire place. In one swift movement she scooped up the framed-photo and shoved it in her handbag. She quickly returned to her seat and tried to act natural, awaiting the arrival of the man she adorned.

Fudge entered the room and sat down opposite Umbridge.

"This is a pleasant surprise, Dolores," he said, with an expression that read the very opposite. He was far too busy trying to do damage control, to save his career, to be having a chinwag with a fellow disgracee. "How are you these days? No more centaur dreams, I hope?" he didn't really care for the answer.

Umbridge took a deep breathe. This was it - Cornelius would soon realise his feelings for her. "Wouldn't you like to?" she simpered in what she hoped was an alluring manner; she winked for good measure.

Fudge raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Um...well...so...lovely weather we're having, eh?" trying to change the subject, as he couldn't for the life of him think of a reply to that - that _strange_ remark.

Umbridge took this as an opportunity for flattery. "Nothing compared to you, Corny, darling!" adding a sickening pet name.

Fudge sat mortified. An awkward silence reigned.

"Are you sure you're feeling quite all right, Dolores?"

Umbridge thought "saucy". "I don't know. Why don't you tell me?".

She purred.

Fudge stood up sharply.

"I've just remembered I have to - I've got to - a meeting with the Turkish Minister of Magic. Very important," he opened the lounge door. "I'm afraid you're going to have to leave."

"But darling -"

"Betty!" he called down the hall. "Would you mind showing Dolores to the door."

Betty appeared immediately. Her bright smile was no longer forced.

"Course not. Righ' this way, Dolores."

"I'll call again, tomorrow then, shall I?" asked a disappointed Umbridge.

"Not necessary!" Fudge yelled. "I mean - I can deal with what we talked about by myself."

"What do you mean?" she called from the doorway.

"Ta ra!" Betty slammed the door closed. She turned to her husband. "What were all tha' abou', chuck?"

"Betty, dear. I think Dolores Umbridge just tried to seduce me."

Betty assumed the expression of a bulldog chewing a wasp.

**11:01am**

Snape had finally managed to fall asleep with the aid of a sleeping potion. He wouldn't normally have fancied a nap at eleven in the morning, but today was an exception.

He'd tried everything to get his mind off Tonks, and the fact that he was attracted to...possibly in love with...her. No book had managed to hold his attention; no operatic number had managed to came his anxiety; and he couldn't even manage to complete the easy Su Doku, in that morning's Daily Prophet.

This was bad.

So he drank one of his here's-one-I-made-earlier sleeping potions, that he kept in his store for any bouts of insomnia, and drifted off into a deep sleep...

...he was in a field full of flowers, and he could hear sweet bird song. He looked down at his apparel; for some reason he was wearing a half-open, floaty, white shirt, and leather trousers - he decided to ignore this fact.

As he looked back up, he saw a vision of loveliness standing in the field, fifty feet away from him. Tonks. She was wearing a long, floaty, lavender dress, and her blonde, wavy hair was almost down to the floor.

She saw him. Snape could just make out a beatific smile spreading across her face at the sight of him. A warm, fuzzy feeling erupted in Snape's heart, as she began to run towards him in slow motion, her hair splayed out behind her, like a cape.

He began to run in slow motion towards her too. Romantic music struck up, and he tried to run faster.

As the music reached a particularly high note, Snape and Tonks reached each other and embraced. Real-time returned.

"Oh, Serverus!" she cried, adoringly.

"Oh, Nymphadora!" he cried back in return.

He bent down towards her sweet, cherry lips, and kissed her with his own pair.

The romantic music played louder, and everything went blurry.

**12:15pm**

In the Three Broomsticks, Madame Rosmerta and Fleur were behind the bar, serving a gaggle of thirsty customers. Some of these thirsty customers happened to be Rubeus Hagrid, Albus Dumbledore, Remus Lupin, Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick; who were all sat round a table in the back corner, having a nice, sociable drink.

Flitwick leaned in and asked excitedly, in his squeaky voice, "So, any gossip?"

McGonagall laughed. "Oh, Filius! You really shouldn't be such a gossip," she winked. "People tell you more if you _aren't_, anyway."

"Some intriguing advice, Minerva," Dumbledore smiled, and took a sip of his gillywater.

"Indeed," Remus nodded.

Hagrid let out a great belch, and then bellowed, both loudly and drunkenly, "Anyways, Flitty, yer ol'dog, only gossip, 'round 'ere's abou' yer!"

"What precisely is that supposed to mean, Hagrid?" Flitwik inquired in a voice than usual.

"Rumour is yer've gotta pineapple fetish!" he chuckled.

"How dare you!" Flitwik was now a shocking scarlet.

"Gentlemen, please," Dumbledore tried to regain pleasantries. "I really don't think this is the time, nor the place, for such behaviour."

"Sssh, Albus! "McGonagall slurred. "It's starting to get interesting."

"Indeed," Remus concurred.

It was then that Hagrid roared, "I've sin the pineapples!" and the whole pub turned to stare in undisguised intrigue.

"This is slander, I tell you, slander!" shrieked the Charms Professor, as he picked up his drink and sloshed the contents all down Hagrid's mole skin jacket.

**12:23pm**

A couple of minutes later, the room was in complete disarray. Hagrid was sat in the middle...on top of Flitwick.

"That's what yer get when yer mess wi' Hagrid!" he hollered.

All that could be heard from the tiny man was a muffled squeaking sound.

"Hagrid!" the Hogwarts headmaster cried. "Get up at once!"

Hagrid suddenly came to his senses and realised where he was and what he was doing.

"Gulpin' Gargoyles!" he yelled, sobering up immediately. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" he got up, and peeled a squashed Flitwick off the floor. "Flitty, mate, I didn't mean it! Can yer ever forgive me?"

But the only reply was a solitary squeak.

An angry Rosmerta waded out into the carnage, "What I want to know is, who's going to clean my pub up?"

Remus nodded. "Indeed, my thoughts exactly."

**3:15pm**

Snape had woken up in turmoil. His dream about Tonks had convinced him he was in love with her, and he wanted her to love him back.

However, Snape wasn't the type of man who had woman falling in love with him every which way. How did he get her to return his feelings? One word came to mind - _seduction_. A feeling of terror swept through him with the very prospect.

He had to give it a shot though.

_But no! Think of the very probable rejection!_

However thoughts and memories that he'd tried to bury - to _rid_ himself of long ago - were all coming flooding back...he had only loved once before. She had been the very personification of perfection; because of this, he'd known that his love was bound to go unrequited - _why_ would she ever love someone like _him_?

And so, he hadn't done anything about it. Instead he'd watched as she fell in love with someone else, his heart breaking all the while. To stop the pain he vowed to eradicate from his being the reason he even felt it - the pain. He vowed to cease with emotions. If they only caused you to feel pain, what was the point of them?

And so, he did, and he became a hollow shell of a man as a result. He liked it like that though - he was pretty good at it too, for the most part.

There was regret, mind you.

Waves and waves of it.

Did he really want any _more_ of it?

So that is how, he came to be sat on his desk, in his office, trying to act casual, whilst waiting. Waiting for Tonks.

He'd sent her a note by owl, asking her to meet him here; his hand had shook as he'd written it.

There was a gentle knock on his office door, and Snape let out a raspy, "Come in," he had the overwhelming urge to faint.

Tonks entered the room, "Er...you wanted to see me, Snape?"

It was now or never. "Seduction"-time.

"Call me Serverus," he attempted to smile in an appealing manner, but it came out as more of a grimace.

"Okay -Serverus - you wanted to see me?"

"I did."

Silence.

"Er...what about?

Snape coughed nervously, and wiped his sweaty palm on his robes. "Us," he replied simply.

"_Us_?" she frowned in confusion. "Sn-Serverus, I wasn't aware there was an '_us_'."

"There could be," it came out as barely a whisper. "There could be - if you wanted."

His eyes locked on hers for the briefest of moments, before she quickly turned away.

"Snape-"

"Call me Serverus," he said pathetically. "_Please_."

This had _not_ been what Tonks had expected when she'd received Snape's owl earlier. Hell - she hadn't known _what_ to expect; but this definitely wouldn't have featured in her top ten, if she'd cared to ponder it. She'd have more readily believed that Snape had decided to open a kitten-and-other-fluffy-critters sanctuary, if truth be told.

"_Snape_," she deliberately ignored him, not wanting to instill hope where there was none. "I really _don't_ think a relationship between the pair of _us_ would work very well - you can't honestly say you don't agree with me, can you?"

Snape's heart felt as though it had been trampled on.

He stood and went over to the fireplace, trying with all his might not to cry. He didn't, after all, believe in silly things such as crying.

"I'm sorry," he apologised, whilst trying to swallow the enormous lump that had formed in his throat. "Please excuse this whole sorry incident. I am ill at the moment, you see, and have been taking potions that have _obviously_ impaired the usual functioning of my brain."

"Of course," Tonks employed all the tact she could muster. "These things happen," she attempted an amused laugh, that sounded more like she was trying to dislodge phlegm. "We'll say no more about it then."

"That would be appreciated."

"I'll be off them. Bye!" and she hurried towards the door.

"Goodbye," he said smoothly, but he heard her close the door behind her, before he'd finished.

He continued to stare into the empty fire grate for sometime after, before he sank to his knees, the full weight of what he's just done becoming too much for him. He ran his hands through his oily hair and let out a tortured yell of, "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

**Next time on Wizard Avenue: Snape does something naughty! Hagrid and Flitwick tidy-up the Pub! Percy Weasley does something pompous! And Ron finally admits his true feelings!**


End file.
